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WHAT? WELL, OF COURSE YOU ARE. YOU'RE A
CAT, I CAN ASSURE YOU. AND YOU'D HAVE A HARD
TIME CONVINCING THE MICE YOU TERRORIZE
AROUND HERE THAT YOU AREN'T.
I AM NOT A CAT. The tabby raised his head, and for
the first time the squirrel noticed a small collar of braided
leather clasped loosely around his neck. Do YOU SEE
THAT?
THE COLLAR? VERY NICE.
AYE, the cat sighed, IT IS, AND SO I THOUGHT
WHEN SHE GAVE IT TO ME.
SHE? WHO?
THE WREN.
The wren. The squirrel was beginning to have a
headache. He closed his eyes and burrowed his nose into
his front paws. CAT, I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE
TALKING ABOUT.
NO, LIKE AS NOT YOU DON'T, BEING A SQUIRREL.
AND ONE WHO IS TOO CONFUSED TO WORRY
ABOUT WRENS AND COLLARS.
The tabby purred softly. WHAT CONFUSES YOU,
LITTLE ONE?
DREAMS, the squirrel sighed.
DREAMS . . . The cat cocked his head. DREAMS?
YES, DREAMS. AND SQUIRRELS AREN'T SUPPOSED
TO DREAM. I KNOW THAT. I KNOW THAT BECAUSE
I'M A SQUIRREL. BUT I STILL DREAM.
AND YET, the cat said, YOU WEAR NOTHING.
The squirrel blew his cheeks out indignantly. OF
COURSE NOT, OR NOTHING BUT MY SKIN. AND THAT
ONLY BECAUSE THERE'S A CAGE BETWEEN YOU
AND ME. WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO WEAR?
YOU'D BE WEARING SOMETHING IF YOU WERE
MORE THAN A SQUIRREL
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